


The Moment He Remembered

by colivcr (orphan_account), IndieBean (BuckNat)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Civil War doesn't happen, Kind of AU, M/M, Post War, Time Jump, bucky gives steve a locket, it wasn't going to be said but it is, pre war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 10:24:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6750118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/colivcr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckNat/pseuds/IndieBean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky gave Steve a locket years ago, and now that locket is all that could help Bucky remember Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Moment He Remembered

Bucky turned his head to watch Steve as he laughed. He loved the way Steve laughed; head thrown back, crinkles at the corner of his eyes and hands clutching his stomach. He quickly returned his gaze to the cinema screen, but couldn’t help sneaking several more looks throughout the film. It wasn’t until the end of the movie that Bucky realised he’d spent more time watching Steve than the screen.  


It wasn’t really his fault though; they were technically still in the ‘honeymoon’ period of their relationship, and both of them were tentatively uncertain of how to act around each other. They were only seventeen and, as stupid teenagers usually were, completely unaware of how to navigate their budding relationship. Bucky had kissed Steve four months ago and, after two weeks of awkwardly avoiding each other, had finally been forced to talk by Bucky’s mother. Fast forward to present and they’re still doing all the things they’d done before, but now one of them would insist on paying and there was, of course, the occasional kiss shared when they were certain no one else was around.  


Bucky nervously twisted his hands as the credits rolled and people started to file out of their seats. As Steve stood up to leave, he quickly reached out to stop him and Steve sat back down, confusion crinkling his eyebrows. Bucky avoided Steve’s searching eyes, too anxious about what he was about to do, and waited until the last person had left the theatre.  


“Bucky?” Steve asked quietly. Bucky sucked in a breath before shoving a hand into his pocket and rather abruptly presenting Steve with a painstakingly wrapped present. Steve looked at him, surprise plain in his features, but Bucky determinedly kept his eyes downcast.  


“Um… I know your birthday isn’t until tomorrow, but this is a present I figured would be best opened in private.” he said gruffly. Carefully, Steve peeled back the brown paper until it revealed a necklace: a circular pendant on a long, delicate chain.  


“A necklace?” Steve questioned him, a half smile playing on his lips. Bucky scowled at him before reaching for the chain.  


“It’s a locket, idiot.” He said. “You give it to someone you’re, y’know, with, and if you open it,” he did, so revealing the inside of the pendant, “there’s room for a picture right there.” Bucky was now blushing slightly, but he confidently leaned forward and hung the locket around Steve’s neck. Steve grinned at him.  


“So, whose picture do you think I should put there? Maybe one of myself just in case I forget what I look like,” he teased. Rolling his eyes, Bucky half turned away.  


“You can put whoever you want to; the goddamn President for all I care.” He muttered, rising to his feet. It was Steve who stopped him this time, pulling him back into his seat.  


“Come on, Buck. You know I’m gonna put a picture of you in it. Guess we’ll have to get one taken,” he looked at Bucky, a smirk creeping onto his face. “Or I could just get you to draw a self-portrait.”  


“Shut up! You promised to stop talking about that.” Bucky protested, the upturned corners of his mouth betraying his amusement. “Come here,” he whispered, his voice dropping an octave. As they both leant in, their lips inches apart, the doors were suddenly flung open and a group of staff poured through the doors.  


“Excuse me? You need to leave now. The film is over.” One of the group called in an annoyed voice. They sprang apart quickly, exchanging rueful smiles.  


Present day.  


“He’s been spotted, Steve,” was all Nat had to say for Steve to spring out of his bed, phone clutched to his ear.  


“What? Where?” he demanded as he switched the phone to speaker and placed it on his dresser so he could change.  


“Brooklyn, actually, and before you ask, it was only a few minutes ago. You should be able to catch him in time. I’ll text you the exact address.” Nat hung up and Steve heard a faint ding a few seconds later, indicating a text.  


He ran his hands through his hair. The last time he’d seen Bucky, they’d nearly killed each other, and then Bucky had dragged him out of that river, pulling Steve back from the edge of death… Steve wasn’t sure what to think.  


Grabbing his motorbike keys, Steve left his apartment, one part of him trying not to ponder why Bucky might be in Brooklyn, and another part praying it meant he was regaining his memory. He checked the address Nat had sent, and minutes later he was driving through the streets of New York, his mind running through what he would say to Bucky, his childhood friend, his high school sweetheart and his wartime ally.  


As soon as he reached the address, an abandoned warehouse, he knew something was off. Looking around, he noted the one, obvious, security camera. If Bucky had wanted to, he could’ve avoided it, which meant Bucky had wanted to be seen. As much as Steve hoped that was a good thing, a call for his attention, the soldier in him knew it meant one thing; this was a trap. Despite this, Steve wasn’t turning back. This was the closest Steve had come to Bucky in nearly a year.  


He got off his motorbike, glad for the fact he’d left his shield on the front of it, yet hoping he wouldn’t need it. His bicep bulged as he lifted the bike with one hand to lean it against the wrought iron fence. As Steve began to take wary steps towards the warehouse, subconsciously scanning for an effective vantage point, he heard it.  


The click of a gun.  


He swiftly spun and ducked, barely in time to avoid the two shots aimed at his head. “Bucky? Bucky, it’s me, Steve!” he yelled out, as he raised his shield to protect his head and torso from further shots.  


“Yes, I know. Captain Steve Rogers, leader of the Howling Commandos. The man who pushed me from a train.” A voice, unmistakeably Bucky’s, replied from the other side of the street.  


“What?” Steve gasped quietly, his head reeling. “Bucky, that wasn’t me.” He desperately cried, “That’s Hydra, they're messing with your head. I’m your friend. I’m more than your friend.”  


Bucky appeared in front of him- no, Steve mentally corrected himself. That is not Bucky.  


The man in front of him was undeniably the assassin Hydra had carved from Steve’s Bucky, right down to the cold, hard glint in his once warm eyes. The Winter Soldier held a gun, pointed directly at Steve, his hand perfectly still. He tilted his head, cool and calculated.  


“They told me you would say this, told me that you would try to manipulate me.” He said in a voice so calm, it made Steve terrified to think of what they had done to his brain.  


“No, Bucky. I’m not manipulating you- they are. I swear.” Steve gingerly held one hand out; a peace offering. When the Soldier showed no sign of reacting, Steve let out a shaky sigh, and tried the one thing that had seemed to work last time. Steve dropped his shield to the ground and took a falsely confident step forward. “I’m not going to fight you Bucky. I told you-“  


The pain was immediate and searing. The two bullets the Winter Soldier had fired- one to his gut and one just shy of his heart- brought Steve to his knees. As he collapsed sideways, a locket, years old yet still polished, fell out of the collar of his shirt, resting on the hard-beaten dirt.  


The assassin leant down, expecting relief at taking long-awaited revenge, but instead, he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time.  


Sadness.  


As he knelt beside Steve’s motionless body, his hand found its way to the locket, and as if by reflex, flicked it open. A sharp pain shot through his chest as he recognised the man in the picture. A smiling man with light in his eyes that were focused, not on the camera, but on the man the Soldier knew was stood just behind it. The man was him. Bucky.  


He felt warmth on his face, and reached up only to realise that tears were streaming down his cheeks; he couldn’t remember the last time he had cried, couldn’t even remember the last time he had experienced emotions.  


“Bucky?” he heard Steve’s whispered word and looked down, eyes full of grief. Steve fought to smile through his pain, a lightness in his heart now that he realised he finally had his Bucky back. “I-I’m with ya t-till the end of the li-“  


Steve was cut off by a gasp of pain. Bucky raised his gaze to the heavens, slowly realising that Steve would never finish that sentence, because he was gone.  
Bucky felt his subordination, his will, the fleeting sense of humanity Steve had given him all crumble into nothing, and he let out a hoarse cry of unadulterated pain and anguish. So close, they had been so close and now… Now they would never be together.  


James Buchanan Barnes rose to his feet, Steve’s locket clutched tightly in his hand. He picked up the shield abandoned on the ground and walked into the night.


End file.
